It came to me in a vision; part 3 of the crop top caper; based on yet another drawing by Ivymae: the Kim Doll WIP over at Dev Art
The continuing adventures of Kim, Ron, and Kim's attire, based on drawings by Ivymae
Kim and Ron belong to Disney.
Richard and Daphne Harte are based on Richard and Helen Lionheart, created by Lionheartcartoon
Ron's parents' first names are mine
Cyndi Larsen is mine--creatively
Ron pulled up to the house, parked the scooter, and quietly opened the front door. The small lamp was on in the front hall. It was just past midnight; of course the folks would already be in bed.
What a day--what a couple of days! His Team Possible teammates had given Kim and him a night off. Kim had come over for a "study date"--hah! After being on his best behavior, he had dared a great deed; to blow a zerbet on his girlfriend's bare midriff; and she didn't break a book over his head! In fact, it opened doors, as each confided their unrevealed hopes and dreams of life with the other.
The magic of being together--whether on a mission--or a date--only seemed to intensify.
They had met at Bueno Nacho with Team Harte and traded stories. What a way to spend an evening; almost as good to be alone with K.P. was to be with his other best friend, Rich; they were "Bro's", fellow warriors and fellow pranksters. Kim and Daphne were even past their mutual dislike now; Daphne now tolerated Kim's crop top wardrobe, and Kim now tolerated tolerated Daphne's religious standards
After a lifetime in the desert of feeling useless and half-assed, he had come to an oasis of love and friendship. Life was good.
When he got to his room, a lamp was suddenly switched on; he looked around. Aha, it was Rufus. The little pink animal stood indignantly, tapping his toe, arms folded, and face fuming. Then he pointed to the alarm clock. He waved his arms wildly and chattered about being left home alone all day while Ron was out all night with friends.
Ron smiled apologetically and tried to explain. "Dude, Wade called at three in the morning; I figured at least one of us should get some sleep. Besides, K.P. and I needed some time alone."
Rufus only got louder; since when had they decided that missions were just a twosome affair? Speaking of twosome, who was it that had been there for Ron when Kim was crushing on Josh Mankey?
Ron knew he was tired when he realized he couldn't tell if Rufus sounded more like Donald Duck or Alvin the Chipmunk. He offered his hand. "Dude, let's high-five and make up."
Rufus only said, "Humph!" He strode back to his little bed with his nose in the air.
Kim glided through the night sky wearing her jetpack and mission suit, just above the rooftops. There was the Stoppable house; Ron's room light was on through the window; didn't he ever sleep? Ahh, the light finally went out. She cut power to the thrusters and glided the last few yards; she gave a short burst on the braking jets and settled lightly on the roof. It was just like Buzz Lightyear, falling with style. The wings and helmet retracted into the backpack and she slung it off. Fastening the one of the cable to the peak of the roof and the other to her utility belt, she rappelled off the roof and lowered herself down to Ron's window. The window was open; thank goodness, it was a warm night; she slid open the screen and slipped in.
She glanced around the room; Ron and Rufus were asleep; clothes were on the floor; how typical, she thought with tenderness. She tiptoed across the room; avoid the squeaky spot; check the closet, check the dresser. Again, how typical; Ron was down to his last clean shirt; and she knew that tomorrow was laundry day.
Time to put Operation Retaliation into effect. If this worked, she would so get back at him for razzberrying her belly the other night. Oops; she almost giggled out loud. Rufus sleepily poked his head up; of course, naked mole rats have much better hearing than humans.
Kim waved nervously at Rufus and put her finger to her lips; please be quiet. Rufus only shook his head grumpily and curled up. These humans were incomprehensible; it was all his fault, unfortunately; he had pushed them into each other's arms at the last dance of the Junior Prom, and nature had taken it's course. Well, live and learn.
She unbuckled her belt and let her cargo pants drop; she pulled off her croptop over her head Ron stirred--she froze, ready to grab her clothes and leap out the window; he resumed his snores and she sighed in relief. She went to the closet and took his last lonely clean shirt off the hanger; the brown pullover; how many of these did he own? She held the shirt to her face, inhaled deeply, and sighed; Rachel Stoppable's laundry soap, but Ron's aftershave, his deodorant, his smell. She caressed her cheek with the shirt; a thousand washings couldn't remove his smell. She put her arms through the sleeves and pulled the shirt on over her head.
Kim exited the closet and looked lovingly at Ron; her gentle sleeper; time for the next part of the plan. She put her hand to the blanket--and hesitated for a moment.
Was it only yesterday? In Lowerton Park they had said The Big Words: I Love You. She had offered him the most precious thing she could, her very self. "I love you--and I mean that in every way I can--a friend, a steady, a mate...tell me you want me, and I'm yours--now, today." And it had floored him "I can so trust you with my heart and life," she had told him.
He had taken her offer and made his counter-offer. "I've even thought about our first time together--wow--and when I think about it, I think about everything else that goes with it, like marriage, children, our first house...I want our first time together to be so right--I want it to be the first of an entire lifetime of together's." And it had floored her.
She could offer herself again, here and now. She was sure she could make it happen; she could slip under the covers and gently awaken him. Their bodies could speak in a surer language than words. She could be gone before sunrise; or they could greet the sun together, in sweet intimacy, defying the world, as the morning light filtered in through that very window.
What was stopping her? It was what else Ron had said. "I think about my Jewish heritage--what that means for us--how important is it to me?--I can't believe I'm about to say this--I want our first time together to be so right--"
Images paraded through her head: the proposal, the screams of joy, the preparations, the bridal shower, the ceremony in church--or synagogue--Mom's misty eyes, being given away by Daddy, the I Do's, the rice, and the moment--finally, at last, alone--the fairy tale moment, face to face. She sighed--oh, Ron, you sweet old-fashioned goof--even asleep you keep me on the straight and narrow.
She clambered onto the bed and leaned over him; he was bare-armed--and bare-chested--hmm. Her thoughts flew; she knew him to be a pajama man; what was under the covers?
Ron was in several dreams. Kim and he were before the minister--or was it the rabbi? She was a vision in her wedding dress and veil. The blessed words were spoken: "I now pronounce you husband and wife." He lifted the veil and drew near to those puppy pout lips. The Kim and he were in a honeymoon suite, as they kissed and embraced hungrily, as she slipped off his tux jacket and tie, and as he slipped off her veil and unzipped her gown. Then they were on a sun-drenched beach of white sand, with wafting palms and rolling surf; Kim was in a white--or black--or red--bikini--who cared what color? He lay on the blanket and looked up with absolute wonder at this perfect work of nature. She was smiling teasingly as she leaned over to kiss him.
How glad he was to be married now; how bad it was during the torture of his single days; he had not anticipated when they started dating what that first summer would be like, the first time he had seen her in a bikini--OMG--jaw-dropping, tongue-hanging-out, heart-pounding--and it was all for him--no Josh Mankey, no Dave Sawyer--waitaminute--WAS he married? Hey, no big--just a dream.
"Oh, K.P.--bring it on." Oh, those moist sweeeeet lips. Oh, the feel of her in his arms. He hardly noticed her weight on his chest--boy, this dream was awfully realistic.
His eyes popped open like a jack-in-the-box. Moonlight, Kim, his bedroom, Kim, wearing his shirt, the teasing smile, the dancing eyes, the moonlight on her hair--
He banged his head on the head of the bed. He sat up and nearly hit her head on his. He backed away and banged himself on the head of the bed again. He held the blanket up to his chin. "K.P.! What're you doin' here?"
She only smiled teasingly and batted her eyes.
He checked under the covers--thank God, at least he had his boxers on. He pleaded with her. "Come on, K.P.! Can I have my shirt back, now? Please? Hello? Feeling kinda naked here."
Kim silently climbed off the foot of his bed and slowly backed away. She winked, blew him a kiss, backflipped, and smoothly dove through the open window, hardly rustling the curtains. Hie eyes bulged; was she wearing panties under his shirt?
Ron leapt from his bed, hit the squeaky spot in the floor (Damn! Please, God, let Mom and Dad sleep through this!), and ran to the window. He leaned out and peered into the sky; all he saw of her was the silhouette against the moonlight, Kim and the jetpack, wings extended, on silent running; all he heard was a gentle giggle that settled like faint music on his ears.
He was excited and pleased, but thoroughly puzzled; what was this late night visit all about? He withdrew his head back into his room and sighed; oh, Kim...my K.P...well, maybe he deserved the scare for razzberrying her a couple nights ago--
Ron stared at her clothes on the floor--Holy Crap! He raced to the closet and found empty hangers--Double Holy Crap! He had been royally punked!
He saw her plan in an instant: tomorrow was wash day; Rachel Stoppable ran it like a well oiled machine; she knew her son's wardrobe like Abe knew the figures he worked with; when his last clean shirt was being worn, the next batch was being laundered.
Ron would catch hell for having no clean shirts; but that wasn't the worst. Mom Stoppable knew the contents of her son's room and floor better than her husband knew the ledger sheet. There was no place to hide Kim's clothes. His mother would see it on the floor, or notice the bulge under the bedsheet or the book bag, or go unerringly to the drawer, like radar, like a bloodhound; she would pick up the short crop top with thumb and forefinger--"Ronnie--is this your mission suit--or someone else's--and what's it doing in your room?"
Ron groaned; his ass was in the frying pan. Dad Dr. P. loomed a mile high in his mind's eye, sending Ron to the Black Hole Deep, the Seventh Circle of Hell--and for his Kimmie-Cub, Daddy's Little Girl, all would be forgiven and forgotten; she would smell like a rose. There was no hiding Kim's clothes--or smuggling them out past Mom's eagle eye.
Ron sat morosely on the foot of his bed. "Yeah, Rufus, she punked me good." In spite of it, he shook his head and smiled admiringly; Kim had executed a master stroke; it was check and checkmate. What to do next? And as he sat in the dark, a grin slowly came to his face. Oh, this was so good! "Payback is gonna be sweet, K.P."
He flopped back on his pillow with his arms behind his head; he could hardly wait until the morning. "Yeah, Rufus, it's all gonna be good; the Ron-ster's got his head in the game." Rufus rolled his eyes upward; enough already; please let the loyal mascot get his sleep.
Morning came, and Ron charged down the stairs, wearing his Maddog jacket and cargo pants.
"Ronnie, aren't you having breakfast?"
"Gotta meet Kim before school, Mom!"
"Ronnie, you're wearing your jacket--won't that be too hot on a warm day like this?"
"School spirit, Mom--the Mascot has to look the part!"
"Ronnie, you're growing like a weed--those pants barely reach your ankles!"
"I know, Mom--you feed me too well."
"Don't forget, I do the wash today; are all your dirty clothes in the hamper?"
"About that, Mom--I misplaced my last clean pullover--maybe on a mission or something--gotta wear a mission shirt to school."
He gave her a peck on the cheek as he breezed past, and his father a peck on the head. "Love you both--bye."
"Do well, son," said Abe through his morning paper as he sat at the table with his coffee; I'm proud of that boy--do I show it enough?
Rachel sighed. Does Kim know what a lucky girl she is? "Our boy--he's almost grown." Abe nodded and grasped his wife's hand.
Ron could hardly keep his scooter under the speed limit; he felt like jumping off the saddle; oh, Kim Possible, today Ron Stoppable stops you; today he becomes All That.
He parked his scooter and entered the school. There she was, waiting by her locker, with Tara, Bonnie, in their cheerleading outfits, and Brick. He caught her eye, and saw the smirk on her face.
Kim saw the spring in his step, the twinkle in his eye; something was up; well, play along and see what happens.
"Well, Mr. Stoppable, how did you explain to your mother your last clean shirt gone, and my clothes on the floor of your bedroom?"
All the others stared at each other with "huh?" expressions on their faces.
"K.P.--what're you talkin' about?"
Kim eyed him suspiciously. "Ron--what are you wearing under that jacket?"
Ron's grin practically split his face; without speaking a word, he whipped open his Maddog jacket, flashing them, and closed it again. They all stared.
Tara, the sweet, the shy, the innocent, turned five shades of scarlet and ran down the hall.
Bonnie covered her eyes and turned away. "OH MY GOD, HE DID IT AGAIN--I'M GONNA GO BLIND!" She ran down the hall, bellowing. "UGH! SICK AND WRONG! BELLY HAIR! ACH! GROSS ME OUT!"
Brick edged cautiously away, glancing nervously over his shoulder as he went. "Dude--I think you have issues you need to deal with."
Kim covered her mouth with both hands and screamed with laughter. For five minutes she was doubled over. Every time she looked up, he opened his jacket slightly again, and she had to continue laughing
Every secret fear that she and Ron would break up, or get bored with each other, or that he wouldn't commit, or whatever, utterly died away in that moment. For under his Maddog jacket he was wearing her low rise cargo pants and midriff-baring crop top; the pants chosen for her slender waist and hips hardly sufficed to fit on him; even though the pants were belted, the zipper gapped open, revealing his brightly colored boxer shorts.
Steve Barkin heard the commotion up the hall and looked up from his clipboard. Tara walked briskly past on his left, looking like a deer in the headlights. Bonnie stomped disgustedly past on his right. On the other side again, Brick walked furtively by, his eyes downcast, his hands in his pockets. "Mr. Barkin, you don't want to know," he whispered. Steve Barkin peered up the hall, squinting. He frowned. "Stoppable and Possible," he muttered; "I might have guessed; I don't want to know about it." He turned on his heel, stared at his clipboard, and walked briskly in the other direction.
Kim's face was as red as her hair. She wiped the tears of laughter from her cheeks and fanned herself with her hand. "Enough," she said breathlessly. "Please stop; I can't stand it; I'm gonna faint in a minute--or pee my pants--or something." She hugged Ron around the waist. "You're hopeless, and I love you."
He put his arms around her shoulders. "I know; I love you, too."
She rested her chin on his chest and looked into his eyes. "Please tell me you brought something else to wear."
He shrugged and shook his head. "Nope; this is it."
She stifled a laugh. "Promise me you won't go around all day with my crop top under your jacket; I won't be able to do a thing if I have that mental picture in my head."
He shrugged, "Okay," and started to take off his jacket.
"NO!" More heads turned at her panicked outburst; "Go somewhere unobserved, for heaven's sake--although," she snuggled close again, "The idea of you bare-chested will kill my concentration just as bad."
"Will I see you between class, or at lunch?"
She moaned. "I'm busy all day long: Student Council meets during lunch and there's cheerleading practice after school; will you be okay?"
"I'll hang with Rich."
At lunch Ron and Rich strolled the halls.
"I love her, Bro--that's all there is to it; I look into the future and all I see is life with her."
"You're a changed man since you two started dated; it should have happened a couple grades ago."
"Nah; I had some growing to do--but I'm glad I have you to share it with--think you're up for a best man gig?"
"Wow--how soon?"
"Don't worry--it's a few years away."
Rich slapped Ron's shoulder. "I'm happy for you, Bro."
"Rich--have you ever been in love?"
"I thought so once--but it didn't last."
"Yeah, I remember you telling me; back when you were at Upperton High, you were dating Cyndi Larsen."
"Captain of the Varsity Cheerleaders--Student Council President--a zillion committees and activities--Kim's counterpart. I was just a freshman, and she was a junior--I was too young--or too intense--or whatever. Anyhow, what her and I had doesn't begin to compare with what you and Kim have--friends since Daycare, super-hero teammates."
"I know you, Bro; you've got the save-the-world-mission thing as strong as Kim and I--maybe stronger; you practically live in that chivalry daydream--can I share something? Kim and I both think you deserve Someone Special."
Pain flashed across Rich's face; he did miss Cyndi--or someone. He looked wistfully at Ron; to be like those two, to have a Lady to dedicate his life to; it was his fondest dream, as intense as the wish to become a Rescuer, a Defender--a True Knight. He shrugged. "We'll see." They did their handshake, clasping wrists and bumping fists.
After cheerleading practice, Ron again approached Kim, Tara, Bonnie, and Brick. Tara meekly waved and hurried away. Bonnie glared furiously at Ron. Brick said "Later, you two," quietly and took Bonnie by the hand. Kim and Ron were alone.
He opened his jacket and showed her a simple white t-shirt. "I borrowed this from somebody in gym class."
"Much better;" she took his hand; "Now, walk me to my locker; I have to get my books."
At her locker he hugged her around her waist. "Y'know what, I love your tummy, too."
"You do?"
"Yeah; it's smooth, not furry."
She laughed. "I'm glad of that."
He lightly traced his finger on her bare midriff, and she flinched. "Are you gonna tickle me?"
He assured her. "No, Babe, no jokes for a while; I'm just writing stuff."
"Like what?"
"Oh, 'I love you', 'Mrs. Stoppable', stuff like that..."
Kim froze, and turned to face Ron; she had a strange look in her eyes.
"K.P?"
She leapt up and grabbed his neck; their lips locked. Ron staggered and crashed into the lockers on the other side of the hall. He sank to his knees, still being held by Kim.
"Ronald Adrian Stoppable!" she gasped; "How do you do it? Just when I feel like I can handle it, you say something that so makes me want to jump your bones!"
Ron only stared in amazement--and love.
Her eyes glistened. "This waiting 'til our wedding night is driving me crazy--it better be worth it."
He swallowed and returned her intent gaze. "I promise--I'll make it worth it."
As they struggled to their feet, she snuggled in his arms again. "I know you will. I love it how you respect me; I just feel like I'm gonna lose it sometimes."
"Trust me, K.P., I feel the same."
The school was deserted. They walked to his scooter in silence, arms around each other. Kim giggled. "Ron--we've had a lot of fun with this crop-top thing--you get me, I get you back, you get me back--has it run its course?"
Ron shrugged. "Dunno, Babe; you remember the fuss your Little Black Dress caused?"
"God--don't remind me!"
He winked. "I guess we'll see."
They put on their helmets and climbed on the scooter. Kim held his waist. "Love ya, Ron."
"Love ya, K.P." And off they rode.